Garden of Science
by Skadiyoko
Summary: A simple gardener and self proclaimed "mad scientist" meet. A relationship blooms.


Welcome, welcome.

This is 2P!USUK, using DottyBox's completely adorable designs.

Note: Only Alfred, Arthur, and Matthew (though he's not mentioned) are 2P. Everyone else is 1P.

Chloe- Monaco

Enjoy!

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Vivid red hair bobbed through the aisles inside of the gardening shop. Sky blue eyes were wide and chipper, diligently scanning shelves and making sure that everything was in its proper place. Arthur was rolling a trolley, both levels filled with budding flowers. To the greenhouse in the back of the shop he trekked, faintly humming a catchy song he heard on the radio on his way to work. All of the potted flora, fruit, and vegetables were, of course, kept in the greenhouse. They were all precious to him, and the Briton took excellent care of them. Automatic glass doors swooshed open, and he stepped through joyfully.

Arthur was a simple man. Happy and optimistic. Gifted with quite the green thumb, he had been interested in gardening since he was small. Knowing that these fragile plants were dependent on him to survive, but they need not worry because he cared for them more deeply than any other would. Sometimes he liked to consider himself their older brother, and talked with them for hours. Yes it was strange, and he knew this, but it made him happy. Why would he deny himself happiness just because others did not understand?

Originally from England, he had moved to America when he was fifteen. Both intimidating and enchanting was the large, alien country. He liked it, even though he loved his old home back in Kent much more. High school was difficult, being the new foreign kid. Arthur was not necessarily bullied, but he was often teased for his accent and left out of social groups because he was a bit of an oddball. After graduation, the boy found a job at a cute little gardening shop named Mon Jardin Parfait. It was run by a native Frenchman, Francis Bonnefoy. He was a nice enough boss, though sometimes could get eccentric and dramatic, but Arthur thought that it was fun.

Finishing placing the pansies, the redhead wiped his brow. The sound of the door alerted him to another presence, and he turned with a pleasant smile on his face. It was that very same person he was just thinking about. Francis was an attractive man, with his shoulder length, silky blonde hair and clear blue eyes. He was in his mid-thirties, though one would not guess by his physical appearance. Also, the Frenchman was married to a pretty lady, Chloe, and had a cute little girl named Jeanne. Arthur had acquainted himself with the two more and more since he had been working there, and found them both to be very kind people.

"Arthur," greeted the older man as he approached.

"Good morning, Mr. Bonnefoy!"

"Good morning. I came to tell you that I got a call earlier. There is a new client in need of a gardener."

Beaming, the Englishman clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. Working in the shop was not bad, but he really loved to work for others. Going to their houses, and showing his expertise. Receiving smiles and praise when he was finished making their yards beautiful. "Oh goodie!" he cheered, smile still not receding. "What do I need to do?"

Here Francis shifted on his feet, and scratched his neck. "Well, this is actually a bit of an odd one. The client's name is Alfred Jones, and he, and I quote, 'require a professional of your trade in assisting me wiz a scientific study immediately.'"

Big eyes blinked, showing confusion. "Um, so... what's the job?"

Pulling three packets of bell pepper seeds from his apron, Francis handed them to Arthur. "Most of what he said flew straight over my 'ead, but I understood that he wanted someone to plant different pepper seeds in different pots so he could observe them, or whatever."

Taking the packets, the redhead flipped them over and read the backs even though he knew exactly what they said. He had seen them a trillion times. "So I need to bring pots and soil as well?"

"Right. Now come, I'll help you prepare." As Francis turned, a pout formed on Arthur's lips. He could handle it by himself. "You need to leave as soon as you can. At least, that's what Mr. Jones requested." Oh, well that was more acceptable. As long as he was not being babied, he would gladly accept the help. Then it hit him. Now? The notion stunned the Brit for a moment, but he swiftly shook it from himself. Following his boss, they continued to discuss the job in more detail as they grabbed everything the gardener needed. Once he was ready, he bid Francis farewell and began the drive to the address he was given in the company truck.

.:.:.:.:.

As he pulled into the vacant driveway, he observed how nice and clean the house looked. Quaint and cute, it was only one story with a small front yard. The gardener's mind immediately scoped out the best places to hoe flowerbeds, the perfect flowers to plant, maybe even a blueberry bush right next to the stoop. Shaking his head, Arthur quickly erased the plans from his head. He was not here for that.

If it weren't for the young man sitting on the concrete steps, the redhead would have believed that no one was home. Along with the empty driveway, there were no lights on inside of the home, nor any movement through the windows. It was a little eerie, but Arthur shrugged it off and exited the vehicle. It was mid-March, and the weather was tame and mild. Just the way the Brit liked it.

The man on the stoop stood, and made his way to Arthur. From the looks of his long legs, Arthur could tell that this brunette was easily taller than him. Simple were his clothes, all dark shades and loose, but comfortable. Mr. Jones had tan skin, and walked at a brisk pace. His dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, though the gardener thought them to be unnecessary since the sun was not very bright today.

"Greetings," stated the other once he was in front of Arthur, his hand taunt in extension.

Politely smiling, the Englishman took it. It was a strange greeting, to say the least, but charming in its own way. "Hello," he responded, "My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I was sent from Mon Jardin Parfait."

"Obviously." Such a blunt statement made Arthur feel... inadequate in a way. This man was some sort of scientist, right? His looks may not say much, but his speech and mannerisms spoke volumes. Alfred seemed to only care about getting to the point, and not dawdling or making small talk. The redhead felt like he was ten again, instead of twenty-two.

"Er, right. Well, I'll just get all of your items." Turning, he went to the rear of the truck.

"Do you require assistance?" queried Alfred, suddenly right next to the shorter male.

Jumping a little, Arthur fumbled with the tailgate. "Ah! Oh, no no! I couldn't ask that of you, it's my job!"

"You did not ask, I offered."

Frowning a little, the Briton's mind was in a tizzy. Alfred was confusing, and difficult to interact with. Maybe he was simply an awkward loner? He could relate, but at least he was easy to get along with. Arthur did hate carrying the heavy bags of soil, but he did it all the time, so it was not anything to complain about. "Um, no. Really, it's not much." Pulling the stack of nine, twelve inch terracotta pots from the truck, he shifted to make sure he would not break any. " I believe it would be best to plant the seeds outside. Er, so we don't make a mess in your home."

"Potassium."

Arthur's brain stumbled. "What?"

Face as neutral as it has been since he got there, Alfred glanced at him. "...Affirmative."

Still baffled, the redhead nodded. He guessed that it was an agreement to his suggestion.

An area was made in the grass beside the homeowner's porch. Alfred stood close by, examining everything Arthur did. It was unnerving, and he could feel his palms begin to sweat. Though the taller man looked like a swell enough guy on the outside, his personality was enough to stop him from making pleasant conversation. The Briton liked to talk with and get to know new people, and had no troubles with his other clients.

Sounds of the outdoor city were the only things to intrude on their silence. A song Arthur worked to, and Alfred oversaw. Sometimes the American asked a question, like what exactly was in the soil he used. Others he gave precise instructions, going so far as to pull out a ruler so he planted the seeds at the exact same depth and centimeters from each other in each pot. Once the gardener was completely finished, Alfred pulled out a Sharpie marker and labeled the pots.

"The testing sites are erected inside," informed the brunette. Taking two of the now filled pots in hand, he stepped up to his door. Following suit, Arthur was right behind him.

Inside the house was as neat and tidy as the outside. Nothing was out of the ordinary in the foyer, walls a nice tangerine with pretty sconces hanging by opposite doorways. A side table was near the door, adorned with a small bowl with a set of keys in it. The duo passed through the right doorway into what Arthur assumed to be the living room. It was simple, only having the necessities placed in specific places. These walls were a beige; venetian plaster if he saw right. What was out of place were the sills of the windows. They were coated in plastic wrap. The windows were large, and facing the front of the house. Alfred set his two plants, red and yellow peppers, on the ledge of one.

"Do you have an orange?"

Snapping to attention, Arthur checked and thanked the stars that he did have an orange. Alfred took it, and set it on the second sill.

"Now red, orange, and yellow in the dining room," he said, but the Briton had a feeling that he was talking aloud to himself. Still, he nodded.

These three they set on windows that were facing the neighbor's house. Lastly, they set the final three in his bedroom, those windows facing Alfred's back yard. Arthur had to admit that he was curious as to what was going on. Why were they doing this? Not being very good at science, he preferred studies such as English and History. He could read for hours, or watch television programs that focused on certain time periods, or areas of the world. It was so interesting, even though others have told him that they get bored easily by such activities.

Science... Science was like a foreign language that he could never get a grasp on. His client seemed to be fluent in it. Which was a downer, because he was really interested in this. He wanted to talk to Alfred more, but was too timid to approach him in such a way. The redhead was sure that he was sound like an utter buffoon anyway.

Now they were both back outside, Arthur taking unimportant notes on his clipboard so he would not have to speak first. And maybe to make it seem like he was doing something highly substantial. A little over an hour had passed, and that was because Alfred was extremely adamant that the seeds were perfect. All in all, not very long.

"How much do I owe you?"

Blue fluttered upwards through fiery lashes. In front of him was the American, wallet in one hand and hip propped just enough for it to be noticeable that he was resting more of his weight on his right leg. A sweet, unique scent wafting from his person...

...Why was he noticing such small quirks?

"Uh," he muttered unintelligently, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment. Sloppily flipping through his papers, he found the receipt page and added his labor fees to the bill. Intrusively, Alfred looked over his shoulder. Pulling out the appropriate amount of bills, he handed them over. There was even a nice tip. "Thank you," he smiled, honestly grateful.

"I want you here every week until my research is concluded." Owlishly, Arthur blinked at him. "You will be required to answer any and all questions I have."

"Okay," agreed the gardener, some happiness filling him as knowledge of their reunion sunk in. "I'm happy to help!" Alfred nodded. "But... I doubt they'll be sprouting by next week. Maybe a teensey bit, but I doubt you'll be able to see it."

"Oxygen..." he mumbled, but shrugged. "Regardless, I still expect your presence in seven days time."

"All right," giggled the Brit. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he'll even get his nerves up enough to ask his client about his strange manner of speech. "It's a date!"

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but closed it once he saw Arthur turn around. As the redhead settled in the truck, he waved and backed out of the driveway.

A faint "Farewell," reached his ears as he accelerated, heading back to the shop.

.:.:.:.:.

Just as promised, Arthur returned to that same house one week later. A few days ago Alfred had called, and reminded him that he needed to be there at the exact same time as before. Still unable to grasp this science stuff, he was forced to admit that he did not remember the exact time he arrived. There was a short pause lingering on the line, and Arthur could not help but feel stupid again. But then that same monotonous voice answered and suggested that he come even earlier just to be safe.

Which is what he did. Not wanting to disappoint the brunette, no matter how strange the job was, he made sure to leave early. Even if he didn't care about Alfred, it would have been bad for business. Though a check up so soon was honestly pointless, Arthur was getting paid, so he was not complaining.

Thankful that there was nothing to unload this time, the Englishman hopped out of the truck. As he approached, his eyes drifted to the three orange pots sitting in the living room. unmoved. Stepping up to the door, he adjusted the pastel green apron tied around his waist, and rang the doorbell. Moments passed, longer than they should have been even if Alfred was back in his room. Then the lock clicked, and the door swung open. There was Alfred.

"Greetings," he said customarily. He was not wearing his sunglasses, and now Arthur could clearly see his eyes. They were a kind of light brown, reddish if he looked a certain way, and in an uninterested half-mast. "You followed my instructions, and arrived before the predetermined time. Fantastic."

This brought a wide smile to the redhead's vision. However miniscule it may have been, that sounded like a compliment. Since Alfred seemed to be the type to rarely hand out compliments, It made Arthur feel special. "Of course! It wouldn't have been very, um, intelligent of me to ignore such good advice!"

There was a twitch at the American's lips, just a tiny indication of a smile, and that tiny spasm brightened his whole day.

"So," he checked his watch, "I got here with fifteen minutes to spare. Do you want to start now?"

Waving his hands back and forth in front of him, Alfred shook his head. "Nitric Oxide!" Slim shoulders slumped, and a ginger eyebrow raised. "It's crucial that we wait until the exact time to document everything."

Nodding, the Briton decided not to worry about it. He was only here to help Alfred. "All right."

Stepping aside, the brunette ushered him inside. "You may make yourself comfortable while we wait. Would you like a beverage?"

Well, he knew common courtesy. Arthur respected others with good manners. "That sounds lovely. Yes, please. What do you have?"

"Water, mostly."

"Sounds great."

The scientist lead them into the kitchen. Almost all of the appliances and surfaces were stainless steel. Clean, and modern. Sitting at the table in the corner, Arthur scanned the room more as Alfred ducked into the fridge and retrieved two bottles of water. Though the Brit didn't understand why he needed to buy bottles since he had a filter attached to his faucet.

"Here."

"Thank you."

"So, you're English."

Blinking in surprise, the gardener did not expect such an out of the blue question, much less the other making small talk. "Er, yes. I'm from Kent," he elaborated gleefully, receiving a nod from nis host. "Usually people say, 'Oh! You're British! Pip pip cheerio old bean!' or something like that whenever they first hear my accent. It's refreshing to be treated like just another person, and not like some sideshow performer..."

Visibly, the taller man frowned. "I despise ignorant people." Shuddering at the cold statement, Arthur played with his bottle cap. "We should go to the living room." He welcomed the change in subject.

Together they ventured to said room, making a beeline to the planted pepper seeds. Peering over the rims, the gardener saw that he was right. None of them had sprouted above the soil yet. Appearing beside him, the American had a notebook in his hands. Emotionlessly, he scanned the undisturbed layers of dirt and scribbled down notes. Mutterings of sunlight, and hours, and moisture among other things reached the Englishman's ears.

With a wave of his hand, Alfred motioned for the gardener to follow him into the next room. These pots were no different, stationary brown with tiny stems of green buried beneath. Arthur accompanied Alfred to the last room. Predictably, these pots were also sproutless. Clicking his tongue, the scientist wrote more than Arthur thought would be necessary. "Disappointing, but informative," he mumbled, straight teeth biting the end of his pen as he thought of more to add.

An I told you so was tingling at Arthur's lips, but he kept it to himself. Not only would it be rude, but extremely unprofessional as well. Maybe if he knew the other better, but right now he and Alfred were mostly strangers. Mind wandering, the Brit vaguely noticed the muted colors of the bedroom. A single bed in the corner, along with the traditional bedroom furniture.

Maybe he and Alfred could become friends? Sure they were very different, but they were getting along pretty well, right? Arthur would love to have the scientific American as his friend. Because... he was interesting, and even fun in his own way. And because the Briton... didn't exactly have any friends. Acquaintances, yes, but not anyone he could hang out with for no reason. Go to the movies with. Seek comfort from. He wanted someone like that. Arthur was tired of being so lonely.

"So, I am most thankful for your time today."

Blushing, the redhead internally reprimanded himself for daydreaming. "Oh, yeah. Of course! Sorry they haven't broken the surface. You should see them by next week." This made the brunette's eyes shine a little.

"Potassium. I'll have my studies on luciferin to keep me occupied in the meantime."

Pale lips thinned to a line. Okay, this was really bugging him. "Not to sound rude, but why do you keep saying potassium? I mean, I know you need it for your body to work, but there's no context whenever you use it."

Tilting his head a little, the American looked at him. It was then that his earlier comment about ignorance hit him, and he hoped that his question did not make him seem ignorant. "The Periodic Table."

Still unsure, the gardener pressed on. "What about it?"

"On the Periodic Table, K represents potassium. So, in lieu of the word 'okay,' I prefer to use potassium."

Blue eyes widened, and he finally understood. Of course, Arthur could barely recall anything about the Periodic Table himself except that hydrogen was the first one. Now, though, he would make sure to remember potassium. All thanks to Alfred. It made no sense since there wasn't even a K in potassium, but he knew he would never fully understand science.

Grinning, he clasped his hands in front of him. "I get it now! That's so clever!"

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed, and the Englishman hoped he didn't say anything wrong. "Uh, thank you," was all that was said, a little unsurely. Maybe he was one of those people who can not take compliments well? "I'm... no longer in need of your services for today."

Arthur nodded, and the homeowner lead him to the front door. "I have to admit, I'm a bit curious as to what your experiment is."

"I'll tell you about it next week?" It was a question, and Arthur had a hard time wrapping his head around this uncertainty. Alfred was always so blunt and decisive, but here he sounded, in a way, apprehensive.

"Sure," smiled the Briton, stepping through the threshold. "And I'll remember to come early next week as well." Alfred nodded, his eyes a little brighter than they were before. It made Arthur's heart swoon.

Humming to himself, the redhead skipped down the steps. He waved, and a beaming smile took over his features as the other waved back. Already Arthur felt that they had gotten to know each other a lot more than last week. Could it be that this friendship was not as far-fetched as he originally thought?

Arthur hoped so.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Don't think I'm going to continue this. I was planning to write a short multichap, but in the middle of writing this I saw a huge flaw. Alfred. I was never good at Science, being more like Arthur and doing better in English and Art and stuff. Science classes were just something that I had to struggle through, usually ending up with a C at the end of the year. And I can't go around it, or bullshit stuff with this Alfred, because... it just can't be done. So the ending shall be left open for your imaginations.

Sorry~

Thanks to Epouvantail for the French translation, and to Mana for being English.

Mon Jardin Parfait- My Perfect Garden


End file.
